Locked and Loaded
by sweetdreams-sunnymornings
Summary: An AU one-shot. Bad boy Ranger meets Judge Stephanie Orr. Can he talk his way out of trouble and into her life? AU to my Mercenary Ranger backstory and to JE. Babe, HEA, no Joe. rated T for laanguage only


a/n Found this one-shot on my hard drive, enjoy.

Not a song fic but a friend wanted a ''bad boy Ranger'' story, inspired by the lyrics of _Hammerhead_ by The Offspring. Probably you can find it on YouTube?

********This is another world, not my Mercenary Ranger world,**** but this Ranger is still a covert agent, and alludes to that.

standard fanfic/ song lyric disclaimers apply

* * *

**Locked and Loaded **

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**.**

_Ranger_

**Offspring was blasting **on the Mercedes' Bose speakers. I frowned, Tank been driving my car again.

_I am the one,_

_Camouflage and guns,_

_Risk my life,_

_I sacrifice,_

_With my brothers in arms._

I frowned harder, all this military shit, what's with that? The damn army didn't do much for my so-not-lamented father, did it? His number came up as soon as he hit age 17, just in time to catch the end of the Vietnam war. He came back angry, mean and addicted to Jack Daniels and heroin. My mother married him anyways, said she had to stand by the sweet, dumb boy she had loved since he dropped out of middle school. Big mistake, mom. The man was a mean drunk, beat her, beat us—only the drugs were a blessing, they made him slow so's we could get away from his belt or fists. He liked young girls too and my poor mom was too old for him real soon. And then he started lookin' at my sister Celia—_that way_.

She was 11, I was 13. I been in a gang since I was old enough to put my head in the drive-by drug customers' car windows and take their money and substance orders, run 'em back Chaco Alzaldo, who ran the streets at the time. I was a mean kid who'd fight anyone, anytime and by the time my father got too interested in Celia, I had plenty of clout in the gang. We took that sucker out, put him to rest where he belonged. _No underage pussy in hell,_ I thought and I spit on his grave.

The other guys in my gang wanted me to get a teardrop tattoo on my face, to celebrate my first kill. _As if!_ I'm gonna mark my face? And with a tear?—shit, even my momma didn't bother to cry for that piece of shit. No, I got a friend who was a graduate of the Jersey State Penal System to do my tatts, I had _Fuck You_ written across the knuckles of my hands. More fitting, you know.

And I been saying _Fuck you_ to the world ever since. My name is Ranger Manoso—don't ask me where my mom got that name, no effin' idea. I own the back streets of Trenton, in this part of Jersey I'm the Boss, forget that white dude Springsteen. And right now I am sitting in my car waiting for a woman who I need to convince—well…..

More of the song caught my attention, yeah, this worked better for me—it was either me and my crew, getting' down—or—who knows, someday the SWAT boys gonna do it and take us all out. But not today.

_Through this doorway,_

_What's on the other side,_

_Never knowing,_

_Exactly what I'll find,_

_Locked and loaded,_

_Voices screaming,_

_Let's go! Come on do it!_

_Here we go._

…. …..

My thoughts went back to my meet yesterday, a boring hour of being lectured by my lawyer who wanted me to turn myself in and be rebonded, seems I am FTA on that bogus gun charge.

"Make it go away, " I said, scowling.

My lawyer turned even whiter and stammered a bunch. The asshole is scared to death of me. Idiot. As if I'm gonna cap the guy I am payin' big bucks to keep me outta jail. Where's the logic in that, huh?

Finally he said, "I can't make it go away. You'll be lucky if Judge Orr lets you be rebonded!"

"She the same one was the judge at the arraignment?"

"Yes. And she is very law and order, anti-guns."

_Tell me something new, what judge isn't law 'n order? I pay this asshole to tell me this?_

I said, "Orr? Same as the DA?"

"Yes, Judge Stephanie Orr, the District Attorney is her husband?"

"Ain't that a conflict of interest?"

"No one has brought it up so far, Mr. Manoso."

I tucked the information away just in case I ever needed some grounds for an appeal for—something.

The lawyer added, "Judge Orr is the only one who can help you, sir."

"She can make this go away?" New Jersey is a "3 strikes" state, any felony is worth fighting.

"She can reset bail so you'll be rebonded. I can't imagine why she'd drop the charges."

I could.

…. ….. … ….

Now I sat in my black Mercedes, parked a few rows in from the area marked for judges, in the courthouse's parking garage, my eyes on Judge Orr's blue BMW convertible. She was so dumb she even had one of them little metal shields on her back bumper, sayin' she was a judge.

At 5.30 a woman walked out of the stairwell. She was lugging a briefcase, a huge purse and a raincoat. She juggled her keys then got the little sporty car to beep open. I didn't want to talk to her here at the municipal center, so I followed her into Trenton's version of rush hour, out to the big homes section of Trenton's suburbs. I tailed her to a mammoth Super Stop n Shop, admiring her ass as she trundled off to grocery shop. Who knew that under her stupid, lame Judge Judy robes was a hot little Italian chick with a fine ass in her short skirt suit and really hot high heels. Yum.

After she disappeared inside the store I jimmied open her car door and silenced her alarm, been doing that since I was 6 or 7. I got the knack. Then I hunkered down to wait some more. Waited almost an hour til she come back, loaded her shit into the trunk of the Beemer, never noticed that the car didn't chirp properly. Dumb, remember? She slipped behind the wheel and I slid into the passenger seat.

I leveled my gun at the hot little Judge and said, "You scream, you die."

I waited til she nodded.

I said, "You know who I am?"

Her big blue eyes looked clueless. "Uh…"

"I was in your courtroom couple weeks ago."

She whispered, "Uh…..I don't remember your name."

"But you remember me?"

A nod. "Well yes."

Of course she did, chicks always remember me.

I told her my name, reminded her about the weapons charge. Showed her my still split lip, "Police brutality!" and she nodded again, her eyes lingering on my mouth a while too long.

She said, "Okaaaay?"

"I want you to drop the charges when I come in tomorrow for rebonding."

"I can't do that!"

"You don't, I can make life very difficult for you, Miss Law and Order Judge.

She raised her eyebrow, _damn she is hot!_

I insisted, "The gun charge is bogus."

"You have a permit?"

"No but I gotta carry to perform my job."

"What job is that?"

"You don't need to know."

She looked momentarily interested in my verbal slip, but she let it go. Said, "Then it isn't my problem."

"I can make it your problem, I can make life very difficult for you," I repeated and I leaned into her space, doing my best intimidation glare.

"Threatening a judge is _so_ not a good idea, Mr. Manoso."

I said, "Here's the thing—if you don't see things my way I am going to go to the press and scream police brutality—which you ignored in your courtroom and therefore condoned! And then I will make it clear that you have a conflict of interest and cannot render impartial justice because you're married to the Mercer CountyDA."

She scoffed. "So what?"

"So you both have elected jobs. Orr will dump you so fast your pretty little head will spin."

"And this will bother me, why?"

"He yo' husband!"

"Please. Richard Orr is an okay politician—" we both laughed "—and a pretty good DA but he's a miserable husband, the guy is a horse's ass!"

"Why'd you marry him then?"

"I was young, stupid—and ambitious. The political machine here in Trenton, the good ol' boys network would never have let me be elected to a municipal court judgeship if I wasn't married to Dickie Orr."

As she spoke she leaned forward, locking eyes with me, but in my peripheral vision I could see the tight little skirt riding further and further up her slim white thighs. My eyes dropped from hers to get a better look.

She purred, "Like what you see?"

I put my gun in my left hand and reached out to touch, sliding my hand under the hem.

She said, "Molesting a judge must carry a sentence of at least 20 years, Mr. Manoso."

I slid my hand up further and bent my head down and kissed her. It started slow and easy, just a get-to-know-you kiss, but the woman was hot and the kiss got deep and raw and—an alarm blared. She had a panic button in her jacket pocket and she had used my attention lapse to use it.

Not all that stupid after all, I guess.

I pulled away and said, "This is not over, Judge." I got out of the car, but as I went to close the door and disappear, she said, "Ranger?"

I leaned back in.

I could hardly hear her over the alarm blast but she said, "If you produce a license when you come in, I'll drop all charges—any license, doesn't matter."

I grinned and she caught her breath, I could see her tits heave. "Fishing license okay?"

"Sure."

…

**The next day I appeared as ordered**. Stood there in court with my sleazy bail bondsman, my idiot lawyer and the thumbsucker Assistant DA.

My lawyer said I could produce my license—and I did, handed it directly to the judge. The ADA blustered, wanted to see it; the bail bond guy wanted his money back.

Stephanie Plum raised her eyes from the credentials I'd handed over and met my eyes. She slowly touched her tongue to center of her top lip. Banged her gavel and yelled, "Case dismissed."

Having a judge in my bed is gonna be very useful. And fun, lotta fun.

**The end**


End file.
